Monday, June 25, 2012

10 weeks with no word. We were supposed to get married last weekend. I'm supposed to be a wife right now.

I spent my would-be wedding weekend at Rae's lakehouse with all of my favorite people--well, all but one of my favorite people--and it was a blast. With sunshine, cold beers, vodka-drenched watermelon, friends, boats, and brisket, it's hard to be upset about anything. I was pleasantly distracted until late that Saturday night, after the drinking games came to an end, after the beer cans were crushed and recycled, after a bonus round of "Never have I ever,"when the couples paired off and headed to the full-sized beds to snuggle close to each other for a drunken night of sleep. That's when it hit me. There were 11 people in the house and I was the only one without my someone. I fell asleep on the loveseat that night. Alone on my wedding night.

I had to snap out of it. I didn't want to be Debbie Downer. I didn't want to shit on everyone's parade. I didn't want anyone to feel bad for me. And most of all... I didn't want to admit that I might be depressed. I'd been leaning on words like "frustrated" or "emotionally exhausted" to avoid saying the D-word. But as soon as I told Cayden that I might be an itsy, bitsy, teeny, weenie, fraction of a bit of depressed, I knew it might be true. And the feeling was mutual.

I'm sorry you're feeling down baby. I hate that we have to feel this way. It's definitely depression. Since this whole thing happened, I've been lethargic, can't concentrate, lost the will to do most things that I'd normally want to do. I'm a really strong person mentality but this whole thing is enough to break anyone. I've tried to cut my feelings off about how I feel about the process. It was working really well up until last Thursday when I realised it should have been my last day in work. Then on Friday, I was so pissed that I should have been flying to start my life with you. Hearing from Sessions didn't help either. I kind of knew he couldn't help but to have the last line of hope dashed, it hit home that there's literally nothing more we can do but just hope they get back to us soon.

For coping now, I'm trying to set myself little milestones so it actually feels like I'm not just rotting away here. I've got my Salesforce exam on Wednesday which will be nice to get out of the way. I'm progressing in the gym, so that's good too. I've even been helping Topher with finding jobs so that it gives me some sort of thing to take my mind off this whole process. I'm hoping that being able to watch the football championships over the next month will help too, but I'm just not that motivated about it at the moment. Normally I'd be really excited about it. I hope we hear back this week.

Little milestones. That's what we needed. Something to look forward to. I'd been debating whether or not flying to London for a quick visit was practical. Knowing our luck, as soon as I booked my ticket we'd hear back that he was approved. Neither of us thought it made sense to spend $1,000+ on a plane ticket to London when he'd be moving here soon enough. Well, not soon enough, but you get the picture. Also, I'd been saving my vacation days for the wedding and maybe a quick honeymoon somewhere nearby. That wedding was eventually going to happen, and I couldn't magically pull extra vacation days out of my ass. And if I could, I'm sure I'd be part of a traveling circus posted up next to the Bearded Woman as the Vacation Day Shit Show.

"What if we met somewhere?" I asked him during one of our morning phone calls.

"It could be like a pre-honeymoon. Since you're not allowed to leave the country until three months after we're married, let's take advantage of it now. Instead of sitting here waiting around, let's go on our honeymoon somewhere tropical and have all kinds of sex."

What can I say? Sex sells. He was sold on the idea. Besides, considering that we planned our wedding before he proposed, it wasn't all that weird for us to go on a honeymoon before we got married.

"I'll start researching today," he said.

I knew I'd have an Excel document waiting for me when I woke up the next day, all broken down by price range and amenities. Groupon Getaways and LivingSocial Escapes woo-ed me with all-inclusive vacations to Beliz, Costa Rica and St. Maartens. I forwarded all of them to Cayden.

Cayden: Slight problem...

His message on Gchat pulled me out of my sex-on-the-beach daydream (which probably isn't all that dreamy with all the sand and the shells joining in on the fun).

Me: Of course there's a slight problem. Why wouldn't there be a slight problem?

I held my breath as I waited to hear what obstacle we'd have to tackle this time.

Cayden: All of the flights to the Caribbean and South America connect in the US. I can't fly to the US.

Me: Even if you have proof that you're getting on a connecting flight?

Cayden: Even if I have proof. I can't get through customs.

Me: Awesome. So... how does Tuscany sound?

Ever since I'd seen Under the Tuscan Sun I'd dreamt about Tuscany. I'd also dreamt about switching bodies with Diane Lane.

Cayden: I'll look into it.

The longer we looked, the more overwhelmed we became. The flights alone were out of our price range. We'd planned on asking for donations to our honeymoon instead of registering for wedding gifts, but being that the wedding didn't happen, our honeymoon fund sat at a whopping $150. But that's what credit cards are for, right?

After a few days of tossing around ideas, we decided to give up. If we booked a trip and then we heard back that he was approved the next day, he wouldn't be able to do anything until he got back from our trip. If he sent in his passport to get his visa, there's no guarantee he'd get it back in time to go on the trip. So, really, we could be prolonging his move here by going on a honeymoon.

We went back to waiting.

And then two days ago, we said "Fuck it. Let's do this." We booked a 7-night all-inclusive trip to Sabor Resort & Spa in Cozumel, complete with direct flights from London and Dallas and a hammock on our private balcony. I GET TO SEE CAYDEN IN 22 DAYS! I'M FREAKING THE FUCK OUT! Goodbye Debbie Downer! Hello Ecstatic Eliza! I haven't been this excited since the day we found out Cayden's petition was approved. My credit card on the other hand, well, now he's the one "emotionally exhausted." But we'll deal with that later. [And thanks to Groupon, we'll get to keep our first born.]

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I'm a 26-year-old former anti-romantic who followed my heart 4,757 miles to London to find my Prince Charming. Feel free to leave comments, ask questions, or offer advice along the way! Follow me on Twitter @WhitForBrit or email me directly at fairytalebeginning73@gmail.com.